Beyond Hades (The Prometheus Wars) Page 12

  The two moved down the tunnel, Talbot slightly behind the SAS commando as he led the way, his assault rifle up and ready. Their progress was painfully slow, but nothing emerged from the shadows to attack them. Talbot sensed Wes was somehow disappointed as they rounded each corner only to have their lights illuminate nothing.

  The tunnel seemed to end ahead, and Talbot’s heart began to race. Faint light drifted through from the opening cavern, and Wes clicked off his barrel-light, indicating for Talbot to do the same with his torch. Soft noises trickled through the brightening tunnel.

  Creeping up to a crest in the path, Wes indicated for him to drop to the ground and Talbot swiftly lowered himself to the smooth stone surface.

  Smooth? They were in a natural rock tunnel, weren’t they? Water flow could have smoothed it somewhat, but not to the perfection he was now feeling beneath his fingers. This was definitely not a natural creation.

  The two of them crawled up to the crest of the tunnel and peered over. Talbot’s jaw literally dropped in shock.

  Housed within a staggeringly enormous cavern was a pyramid, almost identical in design to the one they’d found in Atlantis. But this one appeared even larger, more intimidating simply because Talbot was seeing it right in front of him, not through the camera of a DSV.

  The towering Mesoamerican step-pyramid resembled those in South America but, as with the one in Atlantis, on a much bigger scale. Perhaps they needed to be identical in order to house the ancient machinery. After a moment’s appraisal, Talbot realized the pyramid was sitting within a sandstone cavern, but was crafted from something else entirely. Granite stone appeared to have been used for the huge blocks making up the colossal structure. There was no granite anywhere near where they were – at least not as far as Talbot knew – and he wondered where it had come from and how the pyramid’s creators had gotten it here in the first place.

  And then there was the glowing.

  The entire structure seemed to emit light, illuminating the entire cavern in a dull glow. Could it be a moss, or perhaps some sort of insect? He put his curiosity aside for the moment, worrying instead about the potential for beasts from mythology to leap upon him at any moment.

  “I can’t see anything between us and the target,” said Wes softly. “But something’s watching us, I’d bet my dick on it.”

  “Okay,” whispered Talbot, gazing out at the yawning open space of the cavern. “I trust your dick.”

  Wes looked at him, one eyebrow raised in query, and Talbot realized what he’d just said. “I mean... you know what I mean! We have to go down there regardless.”

  Wes stared at him unblinkingly once more before grinning. “Crazy bugger,” he muttered. “Let’s go. Just follow my dick, okay?”

  Shaking the feeling of embarrassment away, Talbot followed Wes, slithering on their bellies over the crest of the tunnel before descending toward the structure at a crouched run. With nothing to take cover behind between them and the pyramid, the pair moved as quickly as possible in the open – utterly exposed.

  Talbot heard a faint murmur far behind him. He paused and half-turned, and the sight made him freeze.

  “Wes!” he called.

  Wes halted abruptly, pivoting on the spot, M4A5 up and aimed, eyes narrowing at what he saw.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he murmured. “They’re stymphalian birds – big bastards with bronze feathers they can throw like daggers. They haven’t seen us yet, but get ready to run.”

  High in the air, filling the entire left side of the cavern was a group of the creatures. The stymphalian birds terrified Talbot, the faint light glinting from their wings as they dipped and soared effortlessly through the air like a flock of crows. Each creature appeared at least the size of a full-grown man, if not larger. The birds suddenly seemed to arc their flight, aiming more toward....

  Them!

  “Move! Now!” barked Wes. Talbot shot into motion as fast as he could, knowing it was pointless, but determined not to give up yet. He’d gauged the speed of the creatures in the instant he’d watched their flight and knew he’d be nowhere near the pyramid by the time the stymphalian birds caught up with them. But Talbot ran on regardless, the sound of Wes’s even breathing indicating the soldier was right behind him.

  He couldn’t give up, not after all he’d been through.

  His brother had died trying to correct this thing.

  Men had given their lives trying to protect him.

  He couldn’t give up.

  His feet seemed to move even slower, but Talbot pushed on, the flapping of metallic wings becoming thunderous. In fact, it began to sound more like something else, almost like....

  Talbot glanced around to his right and gasped before tripping, rolling end over end down the gradual slope, finally stopping in a heap. Wes ran straight over to him, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him easily to his feet, but Talbot breathlessly stopped him when he tried to move on. Instead, he silently pointed toward the new threat he’d seen just prior to falling. The commando followed the direction his arm indicated, and Wes’s jaw dropped as he saw what Talbot meant.

  Thundering toward them from the opposite side of the cavern to the stymphalian birds were creatures of legend. Huge horses’ bodies, larger even than the biggest Clydesdale, ended at the shoulders and merged seamlessly with the muscular torsos of men – but men twice the size of any Talbot had ever met.

  Centaurs.

  Hundreds of them hurtled in a wide line toward Talbot and Wes; the sound of hooves striking the sandstone. They were already close enough for Talbot to see each carried a bow, all flawlessly drawing back a shimmering arrow, aiming expertly....

  Directly at the stymphalian birds!

  The ceiling of the cavern momentarily disappeared as hundreds of glowing arrows shot straight over Wes’s and Talbot’s heads, into the mass of monstrous birds. The arrows did not stop at a single strike; they viciously hewed through the ranks of the birds, killing scores with their power.

  Scores of stymphalian birds dropped from the sky and the rest paused. “They’re too far away to counter-attack,” observed Wes. “They don’t have the range.”

  Within moments another volley of centaur arrow-fire smashed into the birds’ ranks once again, slaying dozens more. The few that remained turned mid-air and fled, and Talbot watched them go, breathless with wonder, before realizing they hadn’t necessarily been rescued. What was on the centaurs’ agenda to have assisted at such a time? Did they simply want Talbot for themselves?

  He’d know soon enough. The massive creatures galloped toward him and Wes, slowing as they neared, calmly trotting up and surrounding them. Talbot reached over, putting a restraining hand on Wes’s shoulder, who glanced at him before nodding and lowering his assault rifle. They couldn’t fight their way out of this one.

  A single centaur moved forward.

  Talbot studied the beast as it approached them. It stood even larger than his initial estimation. Judging from the centaur’s torso, if it had been a man, he would have stood over eight feet tall and at least three times as broad as a wrestler from television. The creature had a bestial face, crossed between human and lion, light tawny fur covering its cheeks. Yet it peered at him through startlingly intelligent eyes.

  It halted several yards away from them. “Which one of you understands what I am saying?” it inquired, its voice surprisingly eloquent.

  Talbot glanced sideways at Wes, seeing only confusion upon his features. He grimaced, looking back at the centaur, and then stepped forward. “I understand you.”

  The creature stared down at Talbot, no emotion creasing its features. “We are here to assist you,” it said simply, “just as we assisted your ancestors when the Syrpeas Gate was foolishly opened the last time.”

  “Syrpeas Gate? What’s that?” asked Talbot, aware that Wes was staring at him, not comprehending a word of what he was saying.

  “The Syrpeas Gate is the doorway between our realms. Someone here must have opened it again
. We thought you would have learned from the mistakes of the last time, but apparently not.”

  “Oh, the rift,” said Talbot. “You’re talking about the rift between the dimensions.”

  “Whatever you name it, the Syrpeas Gate should never have been re-opened.” A note of condemnation lurked within the centaur’s words.

  “Yeah, well, sorry about that. We had nothing to do with it,” said Talbot offhandedly. “We –”

  “DO NOT LIE TO ME!!!” roared the centaur, causing Talbot to stumble back in fright. Wes leaped protectively in front of him, his M4A5 drawing an instant bead on the head of the centaur. Several of the other creatures moved to draw their own weapons, but were stilled at a minute gesture from their leader.

  “Wes! Wait!” gushed Talbot urgently, scrambling back to his feet. He pushed the commando aside gently and indicated he should once more lower his weapon. Wes eventually complied, albeit reluctantly.

  Talbot met the centaur’s glowering stare steadily. “What are you talking about?”

  “YOU...!” began the centaur, but reigned in its emotions. “You must have been involved. Those gifted in the Elder-tongue are rare – perhaps only one born in every thousand of your years. And only those with the gift of the Elder-tongue have the ability to manipulate the machinery of the Elders. So you must have been directly involved.”

  “Not necessarily,” began Talbot, raising his hand as the centaur moved to protest. “It was my brother – my identical twin brother. He helped my government start the machinery.”

  The huge beast stared impassively at him, a hoof scraping at the stony ground. Talbot didn’t drop his eyes for a moment. He had a feeling that this was a test of his strength, and if he failed they might kill them both.

  “I believe you,” said the centaur finally. “My name is Chiron, and these are my warriors.” His muscular arm swept around at the other centaurs, some of whom nodded at Talbot in acknowledgement.

  “This is my....” Talbot paused. “Um... this is Wes,” he finally said simply. “He tries to protect me while we attempt to find a way to close the rift – er... gate.”

  “He does not understand what we are saying,” stated Chiron. “He looks confused. Perhaps you should explain things to him.”

  Talbot nodded and turned to Wes, swiftly explaining what had transpired. The SAS commando merely shrugged, nodding his acceptance of the change of events, and moving forward to Chiron and grasping his huge hand, to shake it firmly.

  “Nice to meet you, mate,” Wes drawled in his Australian twang, even though Talbot had just explained the centaurs didn’t understand a word of English. “I hope it wasn’t you I shot in the arse in that fucking tunnel, but you guys should have introduced yourselves sooner. I thought you might have been one of those bad-ass fuckers, ya know?”

  Talbot shrewdly thought it best to omit mention of the incident in his translation to Chiron. “He says he is very pleased to meet you, and it will be an honor to fight alongside your warriors,” he improvised in Elder-tongue. Chiron nodded, something akin to a grimace crossing his lips.

  “We must go swiftly,” said Chiron. “The carrion of Tartarus will return in greater numbers, and perhaps with others; those who can overpower us with a mere thought.”

  The centaurs surrounded Wes and Talbot as they began to move toward the pyramid. None of them offered for Talbot or Wes to ride them, and Talbot figured it would probably be insulting to ask.

  Approaching the towering entrance – a huge gaping hole in the middle of one side of the pyramid’s base – Talbot saw something terrifying stride out from the darkness, moving toward them.

  “No,” grated Chiron, halting mid-stride, “it cannot be.”

  “What is it?” asked Talbot.

  “When your brother opened the Syrpeas Gate, another rift opened here. Our kind protects the entrance from the other side, and as such only the stymphalian birds were able to get through to await you here. They only managed because they were upon it before we were fully aware it had opened. My brethren and I followed them through, emerging just in time to see them attack you.

  “Our kin are able to stop all but the most powerful from getting through the Syrpeas Gate.” Chiron paused, his enormous arm stretching out and pointing toward the figure which had just emerged from the entrance. “That is Porphyrion. He was King of the Gigantes before being struck down by Zeus and Heracles. His emergence means that my kin on the other side are now dead. He would not have left any to attack him from behind.”

  Talbot turned back to the figure barring their way in and realized how large it actually was. The entrance to the pyramid was at least a hundred and fifty feet high, and Porphyrion reached almost to the very top.

  The King of the Gigantes wore glinting bronze armor upon his extraordinarily muscular frame, a full-face helm masking his features. A leather kilt with bronze plating shielded his thighs, but when Talbot saw the giant’s legs beneath the kilt, he gasped audibly.

  They were snakes!

  Huge and scaled, Porphyrion’s legs each ended in a cobra’s head where the foot should have been, bright green venom dripping from razor-sharp fangs, cutting through the dust like acid. Porphyrion drew a sword, its blade longer than Chiron was tall and moved toward them at a jog, its serpentine feet seeming to hiss with each thunderous footstep.

  Chiron turned to Talbot, grasping him by the shoulders and staring into his face with such controlled emotion that Talbot thought the centaur was about to explode into a rage, just as he had before.

  “We will distract Porphyrion while you and your companion sneak into the chamber he has just come from; the one holding the Syrpeas Gate,” grated Chiron, each word carrying emotion only the centaur’s dark eyes betrayed. “We will die doing this. Do not let our sacrifice mean nothing. There is more at stake in this endeavor than merely saving your world.”

  Without another word, Chiron turned away and signaled his brethren, who raised their bows and turned as a wall toward the towering figure of Porphyrion. The powerful glowing arrows of the centaurs were smoothly drawn back upon shimmering strings. An almighty howl rose from the half-horse warriors, and they charged at the enormous figure, arrows soaring through the air, aimed directly for his chest....

  Where they ricocheted of his armor, bouncing uselessly away.

  Talbot gazed awestruck as he witnessed the weapons which had been so devastating against the stymphalian birds looking like mere toothpicks hurled by an unruly child. Hundreds of the glowing shafts flew, some even hitting the giant in the face and eyes, only to fall away without even causing Porphyrion to blink.

  And then he was upon them.

  With a tremendous sweep of his sword, a score of the centaurs flew high into the air. They remained undeterred, however, pouring forward, swords drawn and glowing with a deep, inner power.

  “Unless that guy told you otherwise, Doc, now would be a good time to slip past that big bastard,” said Wes, causing Talbot to start. He had been so engrossed in the battle he’d forgotten the centaur’s orders.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Let’s go before it’s too late.”

  Talbot and Wes sprinted past the battle, heading for the opening from which Porphyrion had emerged. Talbot kept glancing back at the valiant centaurs as they flung themselves uselessly against the giant. One darted to attack only to have his entire head snatched from his shoulders by one of Porphyrion’s snake-feet. The centaurs were being decimated, but still they charged forward.

  How could they summon so much courage? Guilt weighed heavily on Talbot’s shoulders, and panic threatened to overwhelm him, finding he couldn’t remember the name of the marine captain who had died protecting him during the attack on the beach....

  Was this how it was going to go? Would he forget all those who had sacrificed everything to keep him safe?

  He followed closely behind Wes as the commando skirted the edge of the enormous pyramid, both of them running as hard as they could toward the entrance. Glancing back once more,
Talbot saw only a hundred or so centaurs left fighting. The majority of Chiron’s force littered the floor of the dusty cave.

  The five hundred yards ahead of Talbot seemed impossible. Breath tore from his wracked lungs as he struggled to keep up with Wes. He was an archaeologist, not some damn adventurer!

  They arrived at the opening, and Talbot paused, sucking in huge gulps of air. He cast a fleeting look back and saw Chiron sliced through the chest by the massive sword of Porphyrion. The centaur fell sideways, but as he died he used the last of his strength to hurl his sword. He didn’t launch the weapon at Porphyrion as Talbot would have expected, rather he threw it toward himself and Wes!

  The sword twirled through the air, end over end, finally stabbing into the hard-packed earth of the cave floor, quivering in the sandstone. Wes cursed softly before hurling himself away from the entrance, sprinting the short distance to where the sword stuck out of the ground.

  Luckily it was designed as a short-sword for the centaur, similar in size and heft as a Scottish broadsword. As such, Wes was able to wrench it free from the stone and run back resting the flat of the blade upon his shoulder.

  “Figure he threw it to us for a reason,” gasped Wes. “Now are you all rested up or what, Doc? I hope so, because Mr. Fancy Pants over there is now looking our way.”

  Talbot glanced back at Porphyrion and saw that the King of the Gigantes was indeed turning toward them, and though his visor guarded his features, Talbot guessed the giant wasn’t too impressed with what he gazed upon. Talbot’s suspicions were confirmed the next instant as a tremendous bellow resonated throughout the cavern.

  “Oh crap,” he muttered.

  “Exactly what I was about to say!” shouted Wes. “MOVE!!!”

  The SAS commando grabbed Talbot and flung him through the entrance as Porphyrion charged toward them. The very ground trembled as Wes flicked on his barrel-mounted flashlight, faintly illuminating their way with the bouncing light. The illumination behind them from the tunnel entrance was abruptly snuffed out, and Talbot instinctively shivered, knowing Porphyrion had entered the tunnel.